18 and Invincible
by uhohskettios
Summary: What will Rachel do with her life when she finds out she just might have a year left to live? AU, Rachel isn't in Glee.
1. Chapter 1

Title: 18 and Invincible (1/?)  
Author: memoriesbullets  
Rating: PG-13  
Pairing: Rachel/Quinn  
Summary: What will Rachel do with her life when she finds out she just might have a year left to live? AU, Rachel isn't part of Glee.  
Warning: *cough* a character might you know . . .die or something sad.  
Disclaimer: Don't own.  
Word Count: 1102  
AN: This is based off a book called Deadline.

Two weeks ago I was incredibly excited to start my senior year at William McKinley High School. The last three years had been complete and utter hell and I couldn't wait to get out of this school and leave it behind for the sophisticated, thrilling, and glamorous life that I was sure was awaiting me in New York. Nothing was going to stop me or bring me down.

Two weeks ago, anyway. But now, here I am, sitting in Dr. Biberstein's office wondering why he has called me in to see him when I'd just had a check up two weeks ago.

As I was squirming in the hard wooden chair, trying, impossibly, to get comfortable, I noted a newspaper laying on the table reserved for magazines and toys. I picked it up and flipped through it, not really paying much attention to anything until a blur of red and white caught my eye. Flipping back a page, my eyes came onto a photo of the WMHS Cheerios. The article was about some competition they had recently won, or something else that the general population surely found more interesting than I did. However, the only thing I cared for was the girl who was posed at the top of the pyramid in the image. Head Cheerio, Quinn Fabray.

Quinn Fabray, who I have had a crush on for the last year. Okay, Quinn had picked on me and teased me relentlessly in middle school, but then when we got to high school she just . . . ignored me. Which granted, I was grateful for at the time. I had nothing but dislike toward the girl, and, at the time, I didn't think that my feelings about her would ever change. Just goes to show how much life likes to keep you on your toes.

Sometime during the second year of our high school careers that all changed. I noticed the highlights in her hair, the blush of her cheeks when she was complimented, the way she swayed her hips a bit quicker when she was feeling confident. In short, I developed feelings for Quinn, my once childhood tormentor.

Anyway, I never acted on them because Quinn is way out of my league, and, even if she wasn't, there is no way she would have any interest in dating me, not only because I'm Rachel Berry, school geek, but also because I am a girl.

I had been staring at the newspaper photograph for a few minutes, admiring Quinn's form, when there was a quick knock on the door. I stood up as Dr. Biberstein entered, reached out my hand to shake his, and then sat back down.

I hadn't been too nervous, until now, about the doctor calling me back in. But the somber look on his face now, coupled with the tone of his voice in the message he'd left on the answering machine, were starting to make little butterflies fly in my stomach. Dr. Biberstein took a seat on the swivel stool, and turned so he was facing me.

"So Rachel, how are you doing today?" He slipped the stethoscope off from around his neck and placed it on the countertop.

"I'm fine Dr. Biberstein, thank you for inquiring. What is it that you need to speak with me about?" He glanced around the room before asking,

"Are your fathers here?" I shake my head.

"No, I'm sorry, they couldn't make it."

"Maybe we should put this off until a time when they can be here with you." I twisted my hands together, nervously.

"Please, Dr. Biberstein, please just tell me what is so important."

"I'm afraid I must insist that we wait until your fathers are here."

"I promise I will inform them of our discussion." At this point, I was starting to get frustrated with my doctor.

"No, really, we will reschedule."

"Look, Dr. Biberstein, I mean no disrespect but I am 18. I am an adult and my fathers need not be here in order for you to talk to me, especially since it is about my own health."

Dr. Biberstein has been friends with my fathers since before I was born, and I could understand him not wanting to discuss anything important without them present, but he also knew how stubborn I could be. I was hoping he would give in and just tell me.

"Rachel, I don't feel right talking to you without your fathers here, but I suppose you aren't really leaving me much of a choice." I gave a firm nod in response.

"That's right. You have got no choice."

"We got your results back from when we ordered your blood work a few weeks ago. I had the tests repeated just to make sure..." The doctor trailed off. I could tell he was trying to avoid telling me something of vast importance.

"And?" I prompted.

"And it seems, … it seems you have an aggressive blood disease. We really need to jump the gun on treating it, otherwise you will have a year left, at most."

Oh.

Well, this certainly was graver than I was expecting.

"Are you sure the tests were correct?"

"Yes, I'm afraid so." I looked him in the eyes. I could see his eyes were a bit watery. Right. Shouldn't my own eyes be watery too? When you're told you might just have a year left to live, wouldn't you expect yourself to start sobbing, to turn into an uncontrollable mass of shake and sniffles?

"I'm . . .I'm sorry, I need a few minutes to rap my head around this shocking news."

Dr. Biberstein looked unsure at leaving me alone.

"Please. There aren't any sharp objects in here, I don't want to do myself any harm, I just need to think. Please." I pleaded. He sighed, but then got up and slowly walked out of the room. When the door closed I relaxed a bit more into the hard chair. My lungs were starting to tighten up.

My life might be cut short. How on earth could I win a Tony, Emmy, Oscar, Grammy, and Golden Globe in just one year? I'm sure this would be an impossible feat, for one less ambitious, driven, and talented than myself. I could do it, couldn't I? But really, realistically, what was I going to do with the next year of my life? It might be all the time I have left, I better make it good.


	2. Chapter 2

Wow, I am thrilled at the response this fic has gotten :D Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed and alerted, it means a lot to me! I got so excited I decided to go ahead and post this little bit more I had written. Enjoy, and please, let me know what you think of it :)

Chapter Two

After I'd had a few minutes to compose myself, I went and opened the door to look for Dr. Biberstein. I needed to know what my options were. I couldn't let myself really let the news sink in until I knew how to fight it, how to squash it under my extremely talented and awesome foot. There had yet to be anything in my life yet that I couldn't stamp out, and I wasn't going to let this disease be the first too win... was I?

I walked past the nurse's station toward the office located at the end of the hall. Knocking lightly, I pushed the door so that it swung open.

"What are my treatment options?" I asked as I sat down in front of the desk.

"Well, unfortunately this disease is rather rare and there is not any known cure for it yet." He cleared his throat and looked at me. "There are, of course, experimental treatments that have had quite some success."

"What counts as success here, doctor?"

"A few months to a year." Seriously, that was supposed to be 'success?' That's ridiculous. I groaned and leaned forward, pinching the bridge of my nose between my fingers.

"And how do these treatments work? I mean, will I get sick? Will I still be able to function as a "normal" high schooler and attend my senior year? And what about my extra curricular activities?"

"Unfortunately, the treatments would leave you rather weak and I highly doubt that you would be up to going to school or doing any of your activities. I'm sorry, Rachel, really. I know how much your dancing means to you, and I know how hard it will be to have to stop."

"No." I murmered.

"No?" Dr. Biberstein asked. "What do you mean, 'no'?"

"I mean no!" I sat up straight, suddenly able to breathe easier. "Look, if I don't get treat-"

"That's not an option!" Dr. Biberstein interrupted me, his facial expression turning from sorrow to disbelief.

"Please, Doctor, let me finish. If I don't get treatment how long will it be before I'll start to feel sick? I don't feel anything right now. Isn't it possible that I could live my life for a few more months without being sick because of treatment?"

"Yes, it is possible you won't feel the effects for quite some time, but that is certainly no reason to put off treatment! Let me call your fathers and get them in here. They'll be able to talk some sense into you."

"No." I stare at him, giving off my best 'I'm a diva, don't mess with me' vibe. "I am 18, as I told you before, and you cannot divulge any of this information to my fathers without my consent. I know my chance without treatment is low, but from what you've said, my chance of surviving is not that much higher if I do pursue treatment. I don't want to get treatment and I don't want anyone else to know about my disease."

The doctor sighed, rubbing his hand over his head. "You're right, I can't tell them if you don't want me too. But please, reconsider. If you really don't want to follow a treatment plan or tell your fathers, please see a counselor twice a week. You shouldn't have to deal with this news on your own, it's too much to handle."

He was right, I shouldn't have to do it on my own, but there wasn't really any other choice. I didn't have friends, per say, and my fathers were constantly away on business trips. If they knew I was sick I was sure they would drop everything and come home to help me, care for me, but I didn't want that. I didn't want them to feel sorry for me or to pity me. I didn't want them to have to give up their careers for me. I would be fine, at least for awhile. I'd tell them when I couldn't hold in the truth anymore.

" I can agree to those terms, Dr. Biberstein."

A few minutes later I had vacated the office and I was now sitting in my car.

I couldn't believe what had just happened.

Sick. No cure. Year left to live.

I couldn't stop my mind from racing. What on earth had I just done by refusing treatment? Maybe my classmates were right, maybe I really was crazy.

However, for the time being, I had made my choice. One year. I had one year left to fulfill my dreams, and I knew just where I was going to start.


End file.
